


Character Bleed

by Butterynutjob



Category: British Actor RPF, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: AU - James is not married, Community: mcfassy, Fassavoy, I guess it's not AU anymore that James isn't married, M/M, Mind Control, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James McAvoy starts to develop telepathy while filming X-Men: Days of Future Past, much to his distress. He tells nobody but his friend Michael Fassbender, who is, in James' opinion, way too excited about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Character Bleed

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Эффект просачивания](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3394688) by [cherik_and_fassavoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherik_and_fassavoy/pseuds/cherik_and_fassavoy), [Julia_Devi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julia_Devi/pseuds/Julia_Devi)



The first time James McAvoy read someone's mind, he dismissed it as coincidence. He and Michael Fassbender were sitting on set, waiting for somebody in sound to do something, when James started humming "Footloose."

"I was just thinking that song," Michael said in surprise. 

James shrugged. "Maybe I heard it the same place you did - is anyone playing music?"

Both men looked around and listened and nobody within earshot was singing or playing Footloose.

James promptly forgot about it. There could have been a dozen other explanations, of course.

The second time he _knew_ it happened, he was again with Michael, and he heard Michael say, "Damn, look at that ass."

James stood up from picking up his dropped pen. "Where?" he said.

"Where what?" Michael said.

"Where's the fantastic ass that caught your eye? Oh wait. Is she right behind me?"

Michael stared at James and his cheeks seemed to flush a bit. "I didn't say anything."

James frown/smiled. "Yes, you did, mate. I heard you." Michael just shook his head wordlessly and James shrugged and dropped the subject.

**

The incident stuck with Michael all day. He _knew_ he hadn't said anything, and yet James heard him. Hadn't he? He could not think of another explanation besides that James read his mind, so he resolved to test this hypothesis the next time he saw James.

So the next morning, he was standing outside his trailer when James arrived. Michael saw him when he was about one hundred feet away. _HEY JAMES_ he thought loudly. James turned to him and waved. Michael literally jumped, he was so excited. He was convinced. But when he told James about it later, James was unimpressed.

"You yelled my name, mate, of course I waved to you," he said with a small frown. 

"No, that's the thing, I didn't say anything," Michael explained. "I just thought it very loudly." 

James gave Michael a smirk. "How do you think loudly?"

 _LIKE THIS,_ Michael thought loudly at James. James had been looking at Michael when that happened, and his face went white for a moment. Then he laughed nervously and looked around. "Okay, so...who did you get to help you with this joke, then? Is Jen or Nick behind me with a speaker?"

It crossed Michael's mind for the first time that James might not be excited about the possibility of being telepathic. 

"No, James," Michael said gently. "You heard me. You heard what I was saying in my head."

"I don't think so, mate," James said, and he smiled but it did not reach his eyes. The expression in his eyes was more like terror. James coughed a bit and shifted his weight. "Anyway, I've got to go for a costume fitting, so I'll catch you later, right?" James was already walking away.

Michael watched him go, filled with a confusing mix of emotions. He reached his hand towards a nearby metal chair. Nothing. Damn.

**

The next day at work, Michael could see that something was definitely off with James. He looked like he hadn't slept, with dark bags under his eyes, and his lips looked more chapped than usual. 

Michael sat down next to him at one of their mutual breaks. "Hey. You all right?" He asked gently enough that nobody else could hear him. 

"...because I look like shite?" James finished the sentence with an expression that was technically a smile, although with none of the positive connotations. 

"Well, yeah," Michael said, and was rewarded by a small actual laugh from James. 

"I--" James rubbed a hand over his face. "I have--a headache."

Michael hesitated. "I'm sorry to hear that." And he was, he really was, although he thought James’ headache might have something to do him hearing voices in his head that weren't his. Also, he found himself wanting to touch James' temple in reassurance, to stroke his hair back...

James had slowly lifted up his eyes from his hands and was looking at Michael with a wide-eyed expression that Michael could not begin to decipher. Michael realized what he'd been thinking at that moment and and his eyes darted around as he suddenly felt very exposed. 

"I just--" he started, but James had his head in his hands again.

"Shit, shit, shit," the Scottish man moaned into his hands. "And fuck. Goddammit. You were right."

Michael wasn't sure to what exactly James was referring, but he hoped that James wasn't feeling completely disgusted over Michael wanting to touch his hair. He lifted his hand to touch James' back, and then froze - maybe Michael wouldn't want that, either? Although they both touched each other's backs all the time.

James made a sound that could have been a choke or a laugh. He sat up and took a deep breath and looked around to see who else might be within earshot. "I have been hearing other people's thoughts," he said so quietly that Michael might have missed it if he hadn't leaned closer. "It's--disturbing. I never wanted this. I don't like it."

Michael felt a huge excitement bubbling up in him. "James, that's amazing," he breathed. "And I knew it! You've been reading my mind for weeks!"

James looked at it. "Have I? And if that's true, why are you so bloody excited about it? You think some embarrassing things."

Michael realized, in that moment, that there would be nothing he could keep from James anymore. And despite his--embarrassing thoughts, he was okay with that. If there was anyone he trusted, it was James. 

James actually seemed touched. "Aw, well, thanks, mate. But I doubt everyone else will feel that way. This is a terrible way to live. You don't know what people think sometimes. Just in the past few days -" James shook his head. "It's overwhelming."

"Well, you have to learn to control it," Michael said reasonably. "Telepathy can be overwhelming at first, sure."

James gave Michael an incredulous look. "You talk about this like it's a real thing!"

"Well, obviously it is," Michael said, and looked at James, keeping his mind as blank as possible. 

James looked back at Michael for a long moment. "If it's happening to me, it's happened to someone else," he said slowly, his mind working out the words as he said them. "Maybe there's someone who can help." 

Michael smiled broadly. "Yes! That's the idea!"

Of course, James' idea of help was different than Michael's.

**

They had two days off of filming after that, and even though Michael left messages for James on both days, he did not talk to or see James again until they were on set again. And James looked--

"You look even worse," Michael said bluntly. There was no hiding thoughts from him anyway, he figured.

James seemed to have a slow reaction time that day, in stark contrast to how quick-witted he typically was. He turned his head towards Michael and his eyes didn't track as fast as they usually did, his pupils were dilated, his skin looked waxy and pale. "Sorry to disappoint you, Michael," he said, with what might have been an attempt at humor, but there was no mirth behind it. 

Michael felt a little flame of anger, somewhere in him. Not at James, but at whoever made him like this. "You're on drugs," he said flatly. 

"Yep," James confirmed, with a nod of his head that didn't seem to help his eye-focus problem. "Antipsychotics."

"What?" Michael snapped, loud enough that some crew nearby looked over at the two men, who were seated in director chairs. "You're not psychotic."

"Have you heard of the term 'off-market use', my dear Michael?" James said, for some reason in a posh British accent instead of his usual Scottish brogue. "Anti-psychotic drugs can be used for other reasons."

Oh. Michael frowned. "So--there _is_ a medicinal treatment for telepathy?"

"Well...no," said James. "I'm actually being treated for schizophrenia." He was starting to laugh, a little, but it was almost more like hiccuping than laughing. 

"You're schizophrenic?" Michael hissed, looking around. Who was hearing this conversation?

"N-n-no," James hiccuped, still laughing, "But the psychiatrist thinks I am!" And he lost it in real laughter at that moment. 

Michael didn't see what was funny at all. "Why are you taking drugs to treat something you don't have?" he asked tiredly. 

James had finally come down from his coughing fit. "She said it would make me stop hearing voices. It does seem to help."

 _CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW,_ Michael thought at James.

James winced. "There no need to fucking yell, mate," he said. 

"So does it work?" Michael asked, knowing the answer.

James shrugged, a motion that looked slightly odd with James' slowed physical reflexes. "She said it might take a few days to take full effect."

"Aren't you worried it will affect your work?" Michael said. That was actually the first thing he'd wondered when James said 'anti-psychotics'. 

"Nah," James said with a wrinkle of his nose and a dismissive, albeit slow, wave of his hand. "I'm meant to be a druggie on-screen anyway in the next few scenes."

**

Michael did not get an opportunity to talk to James alone for the next few days, but he was worried about his friend. His concern about it affecting James' work was apparently unfounded or the timing had worked perfectly - the director loved the shots of Charles just sitting and thinking in the mansion after he had given himself a shot of Hank’s serum, and even commented that James was such a good actor he could control his pupils. Michael was present for that and he felt something rear up inside him, and he was about to comment, but James gave him a _look_ and he decided not to speak. 

At dinner he stared at his silverware for forty-five minutes, willing it to move. It did not.

He did manage to speak to James privately that day, eventually, if only because he showed up at James' hotel that night around ten p.m., the fourth day after James had started his new drug regimen. 

"Michael," James said, answering the door to his hotel room with a slow smile. Everything about him had been slow recently, and Michael didn't like it. James' smile faltered a little. "Would you like to come in?" he said, sweeping his arm inside and knocking it against the door rather hard, which he seemed not to notice. 

"Yes, thanks," Michael said, and walked in.

"Drink?" said James, holding up a bottle of whiskey.

"Erm, no, thank you," he said. "James--you're drinking, too?"

"Mmm," James agreed and flopped on the couch, legs splayed, hips slid forward so his head was resting on the seat back, neck at an angle. 

"Are you supposed to be drinking with the drugs you are taking?" Michael asked, sitting on the same couch as James but in a less relaxed position. 

James breathed in deeply. "Not really," he admitted, holding up his tumbler of whiskey and squinting at it. "But I think it makes the voices--fuzzier. Indistinct. Like--the ocean. White noise." He rolled his head towards Michael. "Not you, though."

"Not me what?" Michael said, as for some reason his heart started to beat a little faster. 

"Your thoughts..."James trailed off, looking at Michael. James licked his lips, slowly, as he had been doing everything the past couple days, and Michael could not tear his eyes away from that pink tongue. He saw James' hand where it was lying carelessly on his stomach, over a blue T-shirt that brought out the incredible blue color of James' eyes - his irises clearly visible even with the drug-blown pupils. James' abdomen was almost flat on the couch, so if a person wanted to climb on top of him--

Suddenly Michael remembered that his thoughts were an open book and his eyes flew to James' face. James' face--Michael could not quite decipher the expression, unless it was _aroused_. But that couldn't be right. 

Michael stood up and straddled James, then froze. He didn't do that. Well, he did, but he didn't mean to - almost like someone had told him to do it...

Michael looked at James' face in front of him and saw a mirror of his own expression there--a sudden realization, eyes widening, panic...

Michael leaped off of James. He put his hand to his mouth and started pacing. "Did--" he started. "What--I mean, was that...?"

James struggled into a more upright position. "I--I think I did that," James breathed in a small voice. "I'm so sorry, Michael." He looked like he was about to cry. 

"What? No!" Michael sat down next to James and put his hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "Please don't feel bad. I--I was thinking it. I just--You--caught me by surprise, that's all," he said haltingly. He moved his hand to James' neck and then up to stroke his hair, and he had so wanted to do days ago. 

It twisted him inside a bit when James pulled away. "I made you do it," James said. "I took away your free will, even though I didn't really mean to, I just saw what you were thinking and thought 'do it' and then you did it and..." James was getting more upset by the moment.

Michael pulled James towards him, putting an arm around his shoulders, pulling James' head to his chest. "It's okay, James, I promise. Please don't be upset. I can't stand to see you this way." He rested his chin on top of James's head, trying very much to project comfort, understanding, forgiveness. 

The sat like that for a few moments, and Michael could feel James slowly relaxing, and after a few minutes he pulled away and pulled his knees up on the couch and rested his chin on them, looking to the side at Michael. "You're really not upset that I...mind-controlled you?" 

"You know that I'm not," he said levelly to James. "Don't you?" he missed the feel of James against him and immediately pushed that thought down. Not now. 

James bit his lip and nodded. He looked so sexy doing that that Michael--

\--heroically pushed down that feeling, too. Yikes, this was getting out of hand. James was giving him the ghost of a smile. 

"However," Michael said carefully, focusing only on the words he was saying, "If mind-control is also part of your--new gift, and the prescription drugs you are on are making it hard to control that, you might want to consider _not_ being on those drugs. You might accidentally put someone's head up his own ass the next time you get cut off in traffic."

James choked on an unexpected laugh. 

"The drugs aren't really working," James admitted. 

"I know," said Michael. They looked at each other for a long moment. 

"Well," Michael finally said, standing up. "We both have an early call tomorrow, so I should probably go."

James just looked at him, and Michael saw in his head an image of himself kissing James goodnight. It wasn't his own thought, he knew that because it was from James' perspective. And it wasn't a command, it might not even be a request, but he saw it, and knew it wasn't his thought. 

Michael was gripping his keys hard enough that his knuckles were going white. "I--look forward to continuing this as soon as those drugs are out of your system," he said lightly. 

James looked at Michael for another second more, then stretched on the couch, cat-like. His T-shirt pulled up and Michael could see a small strip of skin across his hips. "Goodnight, Michael," James said, through half-opened eyes. 

Michael swallowed thickly. "Goodnight, James." He forced himself to think only about lines and blocking as he made his way to his own hotel room.

**

Michael made a deliberate effort to avoid being alone with James for the rest of the week. He definitely kept tabs on his Scottish friend, but he would make an excuse to be somewhere else to avoid being alone with James. He did catch a couple of questioning glances from James, and tried to smile at him reassuringly, but Michael felt it was not fair to expose James to Michael's tumultuous thoughts while James was still so unsettled himself. He also used the time to try and lift more metal with his mind, with absolutely no success.

Exactly one week after the night in James’ hotel room, Michael was able to get to bed early enough that he actually had some time to himself to think as he lay in bed. Michael and James had always had a--spark. He liked James, had liked him from the moment they’d met, and had felt physically comfortable with him almost immediately. He wouldn’t have exactly labelled it as attraction, but now...For some reason, Michael found it incredibly sexy and attractive that James could read minds, and the discovery that his new ability included mind-control too made James nigh-irresistible to Michael. He wasn’t quite sure why this was, except that he knew talent could be attractive, and he couldn’t imagine a more interesting talent than being able to telepathically communicate. Maybe it was also that they were sharing a secret--besides that quack of a psychiatrist (Michael could not think of her in terms other than that), Michael was fairly certain that James had not spoken of this to anyone else. 

But being attracted to a telepath...Michael was concerned. He wasn’t sure how mutual his feeling was. James had certainly seemed...amenable, that night in his hotel room, but that could have been the drugs or alcohol speaking, or the reflection of Michael’s own attraction in James’ mind, or some combination of any of those factors. If it was genuinely mutual, that would be...Michael forced his mind down the other path first. If his attraction to James was NOT mutual, then he might be making a good friend feel very uncomfortable. He didn’t like that at all. 

But if the attraction _was_ genuinely mutual...Michael imagined seeing James’ beautiful blue eyes looking at his lips, wanting to be kissed...imagined kissing that small bit of James’ lower stomach he’d seen, when his shirt had ridden up the day before...Michael felt his cock stiffening and he reached down and started stroking himself, lying in his hotel bed, for the first time letting his mind roam free about what he wanted to do to James, what he wanted James to do to him. 

**

The next day, the only actors called were Michael and James; they were filming the one scene they had together that day. At one of their short breaks, James said to Michael, “I dreamed about you last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael said, doing his best to keep his mind blank. “Well, I actually dreamed about you too.” Long division. The number Pi. Who was going to win the super bowl. 

James looked at him and seemed _very_ intrigued. “What did you dream about me?”

Michael coughed. “Are you feeling better, by the way? You seem much more...lucid.”

James nodded, looking away from Michael. “You were right; the drugs were a mistake. I tried to convince myself that they were blocking things out but they weren’t.”

Michael frowned, thoughtfully. “Did I say they were a mistake?”

“Well, you pretty clearly thought that.” Michael didn’t deny that. 

But he did change the subject back. “What did _you_ dream about me?”

James shot him a very mischievous look. “Hey, I asked first!”

“You brought it up first,” Michael replied, deliberately _not_ noticing how James bit his lip just then. Or the blush starting, high on his cheeks. 

“I dreamed…” James paused and smiled. “I dreamed that you and I were talking about mind-control, and you offered to work with me, so I could practice.”

“Well I would,” said Michael, without hesitation. “If you want. I think you probably should learn to control it.”

“It doesn’t--scare you?” James asked hesitantly. 

“Scare me? No, no,” Michael shook his head. “I trust you, James. I’m not afraid.”

“My psychiatrist…” James started and then faltered. “She’s the only other person I told that I could read minds, and of course she didn’t believe me. But when I started to prove to her, I could feel how terrified she was. And I didn’t even know about the mind-control part then.” James paused. “I think she was on the verge of wanting to contact some government agency before I played it off as schizophrenia.”

“She’s not as evolved as you,” Michael said, with a smile. Then James smiled back, and Michael felt a warmth in his stomach, radiating outward…

A production assistant interrupted their conversation. “Hey guys, we’re gonna have to line up some special effects. Your short break just turned into a long one - a few hours, at least. You can go to your trailers if you want to; someone will come get you when we’re ready.”

Oh. Michael and James looked at each other. “Do you want to practice--that thing we talked about--now?” Michael asked. 

A blush started creeping up James’ face. “Well, if we have some down time.” 

“Your trailer or mine?” Michael asked. Tulips. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Moscow in December. 

James was looking at him with a slight smile on his face and shaking his head from side to side slowly, as if in confusion or disbelief.

**

They ended up in Michael’s trailer. Michael really could have used a drink but he felt it was important to do this clear-headed...no matter what ‘this’ ended up being. 

James sat down on Michael’s couch and curled one leg under himself as he liked to do. Michael stood in front of James, feeling too awkward for his body all of a sudden, all arms and legs. 

“Okay,” said Michael. “Make me do something.”

“Umm…” James seemed at a loss, and was blushing quite deeply now. Michael wondered irrelevantly if he had enough blood to maintain an erection with all that blood in his face. James jaw dropped. “Hey! I don’t have any problems in that department, thank you very much!” But he started laughing, and Michael did too, which broke some of the tension.

But, back to the topic at hand. “Maybe - exercise?” Michael suggested. “If you can get someone’s body to workout without their needing to have the will to do it, you could become a millionaire overnight.”

James considered that. “Okay, I am going to--”

“No, don’t tell me,” Michael interrupted. “I could be responding to your verbal suggestion.”

“Ah. Yes, that’s a--good point, I guess.” He looked at Michael with a furrowed brow, and Michael felt the urge to--bow? It was somewhere between a request and a command he felt mentally, and he inclined his head, dubiously. 

“Umm..” James pursed his lips. “Not quite. Ah, will you not laugh at me if I try…?” James wiggled his fingers at Michael.

“I might laugh,” Michael admitted, swallowing back a chuckle. “But if it helps, then do it.”

James put two fingers to his temple as he did when he portrayed Charles when he was acting. Michael felt a much clearer impulse to sit down and do sit-ups, which he did. 

“Incredible,” Michael said as he did it. He felt like--there was an almost irresistible urge to do sit-ups, but he felt almost like he could have resisted with a strong enough effort of will.

James watched him, his blue eyes seeming to get darker. 

“I’m going to try to--resist,” Michael said, curious to explore the limits of James’ ability.

James breathed in, sharply. “Sorry mate, I can stop!” And just like that, Michael no longer had the impulse to do sit-ups.

Michael lay on the floor, laughing a bit. “No, no, that was fine. I just wanted to see if I could, wanted to see how strong your--er--grip is.” 

A little smile played about James’ lips. “Okay,” he said softly, then hesitated. “Should we have a--safe word?” 

_There he goes with the blushing again,_ Michael thought, which did nothing to curb the blushing. “Well--you can feel my mind, right? If you want me to do something I don’t want, you’ll feel it--right?” And now for some reason it was Michael’s cheeks that were getting red. 

“But--if you are going to try to resist...what if I can’t tell the difference? Between you resisting just to see if you can, and you really wanting me to stop?”

James was less sure of his ability than Michael was, but Michael wanted him to be comfortable. “Okay,” he acknowledged, “A safe word makes sense, I guess. How about…” the first thing that popped into his mind was embarrassingly ridiculous, and he quickly tried to think of another word.

James laughed outright. “Magneto,” he said, winking at Michael. “Good choice. Won’t slip out by accident.”

Michael stood up, as if to ready himself for another challenge, and tried to surreptitiously adjust his erection as he did so. Fluffy cats. No, not good enough- Frogs. The Muppet Movie. 

When he was standing and facing James again, James was leaning forward, intent on Michael, and Michael felt completely naked in front of him. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. He shivered, even though it was warm in the trailer. 

“It is warm, isn’t it?” James said thoughtfully. 

Michael said “Hang on,” and got a sip of water. Yes, he was feeling pretty warm. “Okay, ready, boss,” he said lightly. 

James looked at him a moment, contemplatively, his chin in his hand. “So this time, you are practicing resisting, yeh?”

“Sure,” said Michael, feeling way too excited about the whole situation.

“Okay…” James said slowly, putting his fingers to his temple again. Michael started taking off his shirt. 

“Ahh…” Michael coughed back his verbal response. This was surprising, yes, but he didn’t really object. Once shirtless, his right hand started stroking his chest, touching his pectorals, fingers brushing across his nipples…

James was staring at him, hands on his temple, concentrating. “Aren’t you meant to be resisting?” he murmured, mirth in his voice.

“Right, yes,” Michael said, and concentrated on stopping his hand in place. He succeeded for a moment, but then his hand started moving downward, towards his pants...Michael started sweating with the effort of resisting his own hand. He shot a glance at James, who was licking his lips. 

Oh lord. His erection was throbbing, and his hand had almost reached it. “Magneto,” he gasped. The compulsion stopped immediately, and Michael sagged forward, as James sat up straight and frowned in distress. 

“Everything’s fine,” Michael said hurriedly. “Actually - this is - “ Michael’s parched throat swallowed uncomfortably, but couldn’t help grinning, “--incredibly fun. I just need a sip of water.”

“Oh.” James seemed mollified. “May I get the water for you?”

“Sure,” said Michael, and he felt his hand going for his water bottle. He drank several mouthfuls gratefully, and then his hand brought the water bottle up over his head and dumped the rest on him.

“Hey!” said Michael indignantly, but he didn’t say Magneto. James was laughing hysterically, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“Sorry, mate,” he gasped. “Apparently I have a bit of an evil streak. Clearly I shouldn’t be trusted with a power like this.” He grinned a Michael, and Michael couldn’t help but grinning back. Well, it was a little warm in there, and at least James was getting more comfortable with his power. However...

“Well, now I’m all wet,” Michael pointed out. He looked at James pointedly, with raised eyebrows. Michael had done enough modeling to know that that facial expression, combined with being shirtless and wet...well, he should look somewhat appealing. 

James chuffed lightly, shaking his head. “Modesty,” he said, getting up and coming over to Michael, “does not become you.” And Michael suddenly couldn’t move. He watched as James stepped closer, each freckle becoming more distinct. James pupils were blown wide again, and Michael knew it wasn’t because of drugs. 

“I’m going tae get you out of these wet clothes,” he said softly, looking up at Michael’s face, with a slightly open-mouthed smile on his red lips. “But I’m not gonnae let you move.”

Michael breathed in sharply as James’ hand touched his abdomen. James ran his hands over Michael’s torso, curious and exploring. He brushed a thumb across Michael’s nipple and noticed the hitch in Michael’s breathing. 

“I want to touch you,” Michael said, in a thick voice.

“I know,” said James, with a grin and slight waggle of his eyebrows. “I’m a telepath, remember?”

James brought his hands together to unbutton Michael’s jeans. They were button-fly, so Michael felt pressure against his cock with every button James undid. He groaned involuntarily as the last button was undone and his erection tented out his boxers. James stroked his cock through the material, looking up at Michael’s face curiously as he did. Michael shuddered, trying desperately to move his hands, wanting to crush his lips into James mouth more than anything in the world. He was sweating with the effort of trying to do that.

James had mostly stopped smiling now and was watching Michael’s face as he stroked his cock through the thin material of Michael’s boxers. “A kiss? You are very sweet,” he murmured, and brought his face up to Michael’s. He was a little too short to reach without Michael bending down, and even on tiptoe James’ mouth was about a half inch away from Michael’s. He brought both hands up to the side of Michael’s face and was just barely able to reach his lips by standing on tiptoe. Michael hungrily kissed him back, doing as much as he could, since he seemed to have the free use of his lips and tongue. 

Then James pulled away and said, “right,” and knelt down to finish taking off Michael’s pants. Michael felt his legs lifting one at a time and his hand moved to James’ back for balance.

“Impressive,” Michael said. “You must be feeling my center of balance, to know I needed to reach out.” 

James finished with the pants and then removed Michael’s boxers the same way. Michael’s erection now jutted out and James eyed it appreciatively. 

“Speaking of impressive…” James said. He was looking at Michael, and seemed to be thinking.

Michael could do nothing but stand there. He wanted to do more, but James apparently wanted to run the show, and that was fun too. “My interest in touching you is still--quite avid,” he said.

“Don’t be greedy, Michael; we are doing this for posterity,” James grinned at him and nodded to the back of the trailer. “That’s a bedroom, yeh?”

“Yes,” Michael confirmed. 

James crooked his fingers at Michael and led the way back to the bed. Michael followed, his body moving not under his own control, even now. 

James took off his shirt and flopped on the bed, laying back comfortably. “Now where were we?” he said, playfully. “Oh yes…” he put two fingers to his temple and Michael, standing at the foot of the bed, felt his hand started stroking his torso again. “Your thought about me ‘running the show’ made me want to watch,” he said, grinning at Michael. Michael felt his hand grasp his cock and gasped, because it was him doing it but it was also like James doing it. He gave it a few strokes and then made a mental request. 

“But of course,” said James, who opened the drawer next to the bed and came over to Michael and drizzled some lube on his cock. He then moved back to his relaxed position lying on the bed, and watched as Michael started working his cock. Michael watched James until James said softly, “Close your eyes.” It was a telepathic command, and Michael could not have refused if he wanted to, and he was mixed on that front. He wanted so much to watch James watch him, but it was undeniably sexy that James could effectively blindfold him.

“Yes,” James said in a guttural whisper. Michael heard movement, and ached for what his eyes might be missing. 

“I’ve just taken off my pants,” James helpfully supplied. “And I’m going to touch myself while I watch the show.” 

Michael made a sound, low in his throat. He wanted to watch James, touch James. He knew James knew he wanted that. But he didn’t want to say the safeword to do it, and he was still having an awfully good time if he was being honest with himself. And he realized James was getting off on his mental dilemma, which was even hotter.

“Fuck, you are sexy,” James breathed. Michael could hear James’ hand moving on the bed, heard the wetness of it, and it made Michael’s cock twitch in his hand. 

Michael was getting closer to coming, when abruptly he felt his hand stop. He groaned loudly.

“Fuckin’ Christ, James,” he panted in frustration. “You are some kind of Scottish sex demon.”

“I shall take that as a compliment,” James said lightly, and then: “Lie down on the bed, on your back.”

Michael did so, keeping his eyes closed because that mental imperative was still there. He felt James climb on top of him, and then…

Michael gasped. What he felt could not be right. “Magneto,” he finally gasped and immediately had control of his body again. Hie eyes flew open and James was pouting down at him, his ass poised right over Michael’s cock. 

“You want to stop?” James said, genuinely concerned. 

“No!” Michael gasped. “I just--I wasn’t sure if you--didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he said haltingly. 

James smirked at him. “What do you think I was doing while you were jacking off for me?” he said with a raised eyebrow. He sank a little onto Michael’s cock as he finished talking.

“I thought you were doing the same,” Michael said, honestly. 

James looked very pleased with himself. “Good, that’s what you were meant to think. But I was actually preparing myself for you,” he said, and sank a little bit lower on Michael’s cock.

“You are un-fucking-believable,” Michael groaned. James felt tight and hot and slick and smooth and--

\--and suddenly he couldn’t move again. “Just til I get it all in?” James said hopefully/apologetically to Michael. 

It made a kind of sense to Michael, as he desperately wanted to to move his hips, and if James hadn’t done this before...“Yes, okay, but I want to watch,” Michael said. 

It took a while before James had sunk all the way onto Michael’s cock and he was sweating with the exertion of it by the time he had finished. “Okay,” he gasped, and Michael could move. 

He thrusted gently in and out of James, who gasped with the sensation of it. “On your back?” Michael suggested.

James nodded and they flipped over, and in this position Michael had much more freedom of movement. He thrust in again and James moaned, and he slowly sped up and starting thrusting in deeper, with a measured rhythm. 

“Wait!” James gasped, and Michael paused. “Want to try something--telepathy--you in?”

“Anything you want, as long as I can keep fucking you with my eyes open,” Michael grunted. 

James lips’ curved into a smile and he fingered his temple. Suddenly Michael was not only fucking James, he also was being fucked, feeling everything from both perspectives, and he could feel James feeling what he was feeling.

Michael started moving again, feeling exactly what James felt, and angling for that one special place. He grasped James cock in his hand as he found the spot and started pumping it.

Michael thrust several times in that spot, firmly. He felt a keening in his throat as pleasure exploded from that spot, no James’ throat, no his…

Both men came at the same time, James spurting into Michael’s hand and Michael ejaculating into James. Michael lay panting on James for a few moments after, sure that he was sweaty and heavy but not able to move just yet. 

“I really think,” James finally huffed, “That I am too evil for a power like telepathy. Look what I’ve done to my poor friend Michael.”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said. “I’m really suffering.” Michael rolled off of James and looked at the clock next to his bed. 

“Is it weird they haven’t called us yet?” he said, frowning. 

“No, it’s quite fortunate,” James replied, stretching.

“Well, I’m gonna check,” Michael replied. He peeked out the window and couldn’t believe his eyes, while at the same time his psyche was screaming _I KNEW IT!_

“Holy shit. James, you have to see this.”

“What?” James said, sitting up. 

Michael looked absolutely gleeful as James looked out the window to see that the trailer they were in, Michael’s trailer, was floating about thirty feet off the ground. 

 

THE END


End file.
